


The End of the Day

by Penguin_Massacre



Category: Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Character Study, Don’t copy to another site, Feelings, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Pining
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-30
Updated: 2019-06-30
Packaged: 2020-05-31 09:01:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,530
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19422787
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Penguin_Massacre/pseuds/Penguin_Massacre
Summary: Jon was Tormund’s prize, his little crow. And even if they were apart when the sun was high in the sky, at the end of the day they were one.And they would stay like this forever.





	The End of the Day

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Skelworaw](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Skelworaw/gifts).



> This is a small gift for one of my fav mutuals on Twitter @witchergraham, I hope you like this soft little fic!  
> Inspiration was Jonghyun's song End of Day C:
> 
> (Not beta read)

If Tormund had to be honest, then he had to confess that he never expected to see Jon again after he left with that dragon queen of his for Kings Landing. He had expected him to either die in the battle or, what would’ve probably been worse, him to stay with her in the south. That thought had always left the most bitter taste in Tormund’s mouth. 

Jon belonged to the north. 

“He belongs at your side” a small voice inside his head would whisper. He had always tried to silence it. He had been sure that Jon didn’t feel the same way he did. The only part of him he would have at his side was Ghost and Tormund had been glad that Jon had entrusted his beloved companion to his care.

That’s why it had been such a huge surprise when Jon had appeared at the gates of Castle Black. Haggard and tired and with a haunted look in his eyes. But still Jon had come back to his side and Tormund couldn’t have been happier. He had thanked the gods that they brought Jon back to his side.

The Jon that had come back wasn’t the Jon that had left for Kings Landing. He didn’t talk much anymore, neither did he smile. Most of the fight had left his body and often times Tormund would find him staring off into the distance with those unseeing and haunted eyes of his. Tormund didn’t know what had happened to turn Jon into a shadow of his former self but Tormund didn’t really care. The gods had given Jon back to him and Tormund would be damned if he didn’t do his most to bring back the chaotic bastard that he had fallen in love with what seemed like a lifetime ago.

Tormund wasn’t the best with emotions, didn’t know how to articulate what he felt, didn’t know the words that would make feel Jon better. The Free Folk had always treated their grief in more physical ways. And grief it was what Jon was carrying around. All the grief of the world it seemed and then a bit more. He didn’t even seem like he would appreciate help at all, he tried his best to push everyone away. But if Tormund was anything, then he was a stubborn bastard and gods help him if he wouldn’t do everything he could to make Jon feel better.

He started out with small soft touches. Putting his big hands a bit below Jon’s small neck, massaging his shoulders, running his hands down Jon’s arms, bumping their shoulders lightly when they were walking together. Jon never pulled back, seemed to unconsciously crave the contact, but after it happened he always looked guilty. Like he didn’t deserve the comfort.

Jon had dark circles beneath his eyes most of the days. Everyone knew he didn’t sleep much, wandering the camp in the dark, and when he actually lay down to get some rest it didn’t last long, his nights plagued by nightmares. Tormund couldn’t stop them but he could share Jon’s tent and calm him down when he woke up screaming. He would press Jon’s smaller body into his own, stroke his hair and whisper calming words into his ear until Jon’s body relaxed and his breathing slowed down again. Ghost would then spread himself out over their legs, his warmth lulling Jon back to sleep. 

In the morning they would wake up tangled together and Tormund’s breath would hitch when Jon blinked at him sleepily and gave him a rueful smile with an apology of keeping him awake on his lips. Being so close to Jon but not close enough was pulling at Tormund’s heart but he knew that him spilling them all over Jon wouldn’t help their current situation. Maybe one day when Jon was healed enough he would tell him how he felt, until then he would be the support he needed. Slowly Jon began to look less like the dead and more like himself. 

They fell into a comfortable routine and months went by of them wandering the north building a new life for their people and slowly but surely Jon healed. He still had his bad days but nowadays he smiled more, dealt out jibes and started showing his fighting spirit again. Tormund was immensely proud about this progress. Some nights he would sit at their shared fire and watch Jon squabble with members of their family and couldn’t help but feel immense happiness in his heart. Because that’s what they were. Family. And even if Jon didn’t love him back, he would be by his side in the ways that mattered the most.

About a year after Jon came back to him he finally shared the burden that he had been carrying all alone until this point. 

He told Tormund about his heritage, about the rift it had put between him and the dragon queen, about marching south with men fresh out of battle, with men that were too wounded to make the march and died on the way. 

He told him about the destruction the dragon had left on its way, about how the Unsullied murdered soldiers that had surrendered with their weapons on their ground, men that were completely unprotected. 

He told him about a city destroyed, its men, woman and children burned alive or crushed by debris.

He told him about how he felt responsible for the carnage, responsible for every innocent life lost.

He told him about the bloodthirst of the dragon queen that still hadn’t been satisfied after all the red that had been spilt.

He told him about killing her like a coward while holding her in a lovers embrace.

He told him about how he thought he would never see the north again.

And Tormund let him talk. He listened to his words intently and when Jon was finished he just took him in his arms, pressing him close to his body and resting his chin on his head while Jon buried his face in Tormund’s shoulder. He didn’t say a word to make it better. He couldn’t. There weren’t any, because even if Jon didn’t want this to happen in the end it had and Jon would carry this burden till the end of his days. It still helped that he now knew that he wouldn’t have to carry it alone, that in Tormund’s eyes he was still the same.

They stayed like this for a long time. The next morning they woke up tangled in each other's limbs like so often. But unlike the other days Jon didn’t pull away this time when he woke up. He stayed the in Tormund’s arms with his hands resting on Tormund’s chest and their breath mingling. And in that moment Tormund thought that it was the right time.

“I love you.”, Tormund told him, his voice quiet and still rough from sleep. Jon adjusted his position a bit so he could look him in the eye better.

“I know.”, he said equally quiet finally turning his eyes away. “I have for some time”, Jon continued. Tormund’s heart stopped for a second before it started beating again, this time a bit slower than before. He had thought that he had hidden it well. But in the end Jon was very receptive, so it didn’t come as that much of a surprise. Also at least it wouldn’t make things too awkward now when Jon finally told him his feelings weren’t reciprocated. 

Tormund averted his eyes and began untangling himself from Jon when the other man stopped him.

“Let me finish!”, he demanded in a tone that didn’t permit any protest. He then took Tormund’s face in both of his small hands. “I have known for some time but I am only now able to receive them.” And after he had finished the words he had pulled Tormund down into a hard kiss that took the breath out of his lungs. It was everything Tormund had ever hoped for and so much more. The gods really had given him a gift when they gave Jon back to him.

After that the comfortable routine they had established over the months didn’t change. Much.

They would still eat together, fight together, hunt together, laugh together, end their day together. 

But these days Tormund would playfully tickle Jon’s earlobe before slowly kissing him and Jon’s small shoulders and small hands would become Tormund’s cozy blanket at the at the end of a tiring day. Tormund would tell him that he worked hard, that he did a good job and his shoulders and his thick hands became a cozy comfort for Jon as well. When they lay in their tent next to each other Tormund would sync his breathing with Jon’s and like water he would wrap himself around him with no space left between them. Body to body and heart to heart. 

Jon was Tormund’s prize, his little crow. And even if they were apart when the sun was high in the sky, at the end of the day they were one.

And they would stay like this forever.


End file.
